


Not the worst thing Tony has smuggled in.

by 51PegasiB



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Kitten, a kitten and tony stark, tony stark is bad at stealth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51PegasiB/pseuds/51PegasiB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony can't resist a helping a crying kid, can't manage stealth sufficient to fool Natasha and has a wicked allergy to cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the worst thing Tony has smuggled in.

Tony’s favorite lunch place was not at all the sort of place anyone would expect him to go. That was part of the reason it was his favorite lunch place. To get to it, you had to go to Chinatown, wend your way through crowds of people, dart into an unmarked door between an electronics store and a tiny grocery, then climb two flights of grimy-looking stairs. The room he would come into, then, was surprisingly bright and clean, given the state of the staircase. The food was superb and cheap.  
  
Today, though, something was happening on the second floor. That was a first. Usually, on the second-floor landing, Tony just passed a closed door. He hadn’t even thought about what was behind it. Today, though, it was open, and a man with a mustache was yelling at a little kid in a language Tony couldn’t understand. As Tony was staring in, the little kid clutched the box to himself and ran into the stairwell. His face was scrunched up and he was making an unholy wailing noise - sufficiently distracted that he certainly could be forgiven for barreling into Tony at full speed.  
  
Tony was rocked back on his feet. The kid fell down, still clutching his cardboard box, and his first thought, even as he said, “Sorry, sorry, Mister,” was clearly for the safety of the box. He was examining it minutely and peeking inside the slot at the top that the closed flaps allowed. The man with the mustache…his father, Tony assumed, was heading over, looking like he was going to explode at the kid, again. Tony felt the very strong need to avert it. He had been on the receiving end of too many of these shouting matches to be in doubt of the effects.  
  
“Hey, no problem, kid. No harm done.” He brushed his clothes down, quickly and offered the kid a hand up, which he took, tucking the box in his other arm. “No harm done at all,” Tony turned his million dollar grin on the dad, then back to the kid. “What do you have there?”  
  
"It’s…he’s…” A small mewing from the box betrayed exactly what was inside it.  
  
“Oh, hey, a kitten. Can I see?” Tony asked, even though his eyes were watering at the thought. He didn’t have any allergy stuff on him, but he figured the dad would hold off on any more yelling as long as he was here.  
  
The kid had dampened the waterworks and opened the box to reveal what had to be a very young kitten, indeed. “Dad says I can’t keep him.”  
  
Tony took off his sunglasses and looked into the kid’s face. “Yeah. I kind of guessed.”  
  
The kid was blinking and looking at him, now, which he hadn’t been before. His eyes went wide. “You…you’re…”  
  
“Yup. It’s no big deal. Well, I mean, it is a big deal, but it’s not important right now.” Tony held a finger to his lips. “I’m kind of undercover.”  
  
“But…I was going to name him after you…he looks just like you,” the boy said, wide-eyed.  
  
“What?”  
  
The kid pulled the kitten all the way out, letting the cardboard fall to the floor. The kitten definitely had dark eyes and a moustache-and-goatee-like set of markings on its white muzzle.  
  
“Iron cat, huh?” Tony smiled as it yowled in a tiny cat voice.  
  
“Starkkitty,” the kid said.  
  
Tony snorted. Then tilted his head to the side. “Actually, that’s pretty good.” He contemplated the tiny cat, who contemplated him back and stretched a paw in his direction.  
  
“I wish I could keep him,” the boy was on the verge of starting again, with the sobbing.  
  
“Well," said Tony, quickly, trying to get the whole sentence out before he thought better of it, "maybe I could hang onto him for you. You know. Just until you could take him.”  
  
The kids eyes went wide. “Really? You would do that?”  
  
“Sure, kid. We Starks gotta stick together.”  
  
The boy looked wide-eyed and solemn, as though this was the most heroic thing he’d ever seen personally happen, then he petted the kitten. “I’d miss him, but I couldn’t hide him forever, could I?”  
  
“Yeah, no. Probably not. He looks like trouble," said Tony with a smile, contemplating the tiny fuzzball.  
  
“No! He’s good!” the kid protested.  
  
“One day, you’ll learn those two things are not mutually exclusive.”  
  
Tony didn’t get to eat lunch, that day, after all. He wandered back out of the building with watering eyes and a battered cardboard box.  
  
“Crap. What do cats even need?” He dialed Pepper. “What do cats need?”  
  
She didn’t blink at his random questions anymore. “Food, water, litter box, scratching post, toys,” she said. “Anything else? I’m actually in a very important meeting.”  
  
“Oh, with who?”  
  
“The chair of the appropriations committee,” she said.  
  
“Which appropriations committee?” he asked.  
  
Her voice was incredibly dry as she said, “The United States House of Representatives.”  
  
“Oh. Say ‘Hi’ for me," said Tony. He could almost hear her frustration as she hung up.  
  
“Fuck. I wonder where to get that stuff. Do you know where your supplies are, kitten? Are you like, a self-supplying homing-kitten?”  
  
He peered into the box, then sneezed, violently.  
  
“Dammit,” he said, already sounding coldy. “Home first and to the medicine cabinet. Maybe Jarvis will know where to get cat things.”  
  
“You’ll like Jarvis, Tony Jr.” he said to the cat. “He has laser pointers.”  
  
When he got back to the mansion, he tried like hell not to bump into anyone. They’d never *specifically* said no pets. Well, actually, he had. He had cited allergies and said that no one should bring pets in. No one actually *had* any pets so it wasn’t a big deal at the time. And if it was his rule, he could break it with impunity, right? Right.  
  
Still, better to have the cat installed and adorable by the time anyone asked about it.  
  
He slunk into the mansion with the box clutched to his body and promptly ran into Clint.  
  
“Hey. Good lunch?” the archer asked.  
  
“Yeah. Sure. It was great," said Tony.  
  
“What’s in the box?”  
  
“None of your,” Tony paused to sneeze, violently, “business.”  
  
Clint looked at him, surprised. “What’s wrong with you?”  
  
“I must have a cold,” he said. He sounded plenty like he did, because his sinuses were already clogged and his  throat itched like hell.  
  
“You didn’t this morning.” Clint gave him a hard look.  
  
The box rustled. Tony sneezed, again, theatrically to cover up any other potential noises. “Got to get this to the lab. See you later, Barton.” Tony moved past the keen-eyed man as quickly as he could, making a beeline for his workshop.  
  
“Jarvis, lock the door. Tell me: is there any place you can have deliver, like…cat stuff?”  
  
The AI spoke up smoothly “Door is secure, sir. Are you referring to cat hair, cat fur, cat urine or some other sort of cat stuff?”  
  
“Wait…you can buy cat urine?”  
  
“It’s supposed to repel mice and other unwelcome rodents, sir.”  
  
“Oh. Ew. Anyway, no. I meant supplies,” said Tony. He gave Jarvis the list Pepper had given him.  
  
“Certainly, sir," said Jarvis. "I take it that you have a cat in that box?”  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“Well, you just asked me to order supplies and your eyes are watering and you sound as though your phlegm quotient is higher than usual, Sir.”  
  
“Never say phlegm quotient to me, again, Jarvis. Speaking of which, do I still have allergy pills in the bathroom in here?”  
  
“You’re out of them, sir," said the AI. "They have been reordered. I believe there are some in your personal bathroom, sir.”  
  
“I’m going to leave the cat here and go get it,” Tony said.  
  
“That would not be advisable, Sir.”  
  
“Why not?” Tony asked.  
  
“There’s a great deal of sensitive equipment here, sir. There are tools everywhere, open electronics, plenty of things that could be knocked over or urinated upon.” Jarvis managed to sound disapproving.  
  
Tony snorted. “Look, me taking the cat with me is not going to stop Starkkitty from taking a piss if that’s what he needs to do.”  
  
“I can’t guarantee the safety of your projects or of the kitten if you leave it here, sir.”  
  
“Since when did you guarantee the safety of my projects? They blow up all the time.”  
  
“Ah, but only when you do that yourself. I protect them from anyone else,” said Jarvis.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right. The cat stays with me, for now.” Tony picked up the box and carried it to the door. “Uh…but you ordered the stuff, right?”  
  
“As soon as you came in the door, Sir.”  
  
Tony momentarily wondered which door Jarvis was talking about, but then thought better of it and slipped into the hallway, where he nearly ran headlong into Bruce Banner.  
  
“Hey, Tony.”  
  
Tony tried to sidle past him. “Hi there, big guy. Gotta run.”  
  
“Yeah. Clint told me you weren’t feeling well?” Bruce asked.  
  
“I’m fine. I mean, good as ever.” He felt a sneeze coming and willed it to stay down, eyes watering. “I’m great.”  
  
“But Clint…”  
  
“Talk to you later.” Tony swatted his arm as he passed him and made off for his own room, sneezing violently and repeatedly as soon as he rounded a corner. “Dammit, Tony Junior, you better be as entertaining as you are adorable.”  
  
Tony made it to his room without further incident. He put the box containing the kitten on his bed and went into the bathroom, fishing through the cabinet till he found the prescription bottle. He downed two. He had no idea if that would make them work any faster, but he figured it was worth a shot.  
  
When he returned, the box was on its side and Tony Junior was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Dammit. No disappearing acts. I thought we agreed. This wasn’t in the contract.”  
  
He looked in all the closets and behind things and in the bathtub, in case the little guy had snuck past him, somehow, and then he finally found the kitten, hiding under the bed. “Hey there. Please come out. There will be food, soon, and, like, hey. We’re twinsies and I just now drugged myself just so I could hang out with you, so…please?”  
  
The kitten wouldn’t budge. Tony deflated on the floor. He just rolled and laid there on his back, for a while, wondering how this had become his life. Luckless, lunch-less, and not even kittens wanted to hang out with him.  
  
Weren’t kittens supposed to be playful and friendly?  
  
There was a knock at the door. He sprang up and opened it.  
  
“Your stuff arrived,” said Natasha, thrusting a large, heavy box at him. “Where’s the cat?”  
  
“What cat?”  
  
She rolled her eyes and shouldered past him, eyes sweeping the room. When she didn’t immediately see the cat, she strode over to him, fished a little foil bag of treats out of the box, and opened it. The little kitten emerged from the bed and started mewing at her feet.  
  
“How did you do that?” he demanded.  
  
“Bribery,” she said. “Cats are simple. They want food, they want warmth, they want to kill.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“They like to hunt. They do it for fun,” she said. She knelt down by the kitten and gave him the treat, scratching him gently on the head as she did so. “I love cats. What’s its name?”  
  
“Starkkitty was the name given to it not at all by me.”  
  
“I am *not* calling it that. All right. I am going to show you a thing or two about taking care of cats. And then we’re going to introduce him to the team.”  
  
“Why do I have to take care of it? You just said you love cats!” Tony protested.  
  
“You brought the pet home, you take care of it. New house rule,” she said.  
  
Tony had to grudgingly admit, it seemed reasonable.  
  
“All right," she said. "We should probably put the litter box in the closet in your bathroom, maybe cut a little hole in the closet door so the cat can get in and out without leaving it hanging open,” she said. “Jarvis? Can you key doors to the cat?”  
  
“I can,” the AI replied. “And will do so. Access to these rooms and the common areas, with personal areas at the occupant’s discretion.”  
  
“Wait, wait…are you gust just…”  
  
Natasha cut him off, “Yes. I’m taking over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”  
  
He glared at her. “How do you know that?”  
  
“There’s a litter pan, but no litter," she said.  
  
“Can’t we just use shredded newspaper or something?”  
  
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Even if we could, when was the last time anyone read anything on paper around you, Stark?”  
  
Tony coughed. “Good point.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Jarvis has ordered it. Here. Take your kitten.”  
  
Tony scooped him out of Natasha's hands. “Hey there. Did the big, mean, lady scare you Tony Junior?”  
  
Natasha snorted at him. “I’m not calling him that, either.”  
  
The cat wound up with almost as many names as there were people living in the mansion and didn’t answer to any of them. He really did like the laser pointers, though. He slipped into the workshop on the sly so often that Jarvis gave up and admitted him regularly.  
  
After all, Tony was still the only one who blew anything up. And if Sir was willing to get shots to control the allergies so as to have him there, Jarvis was not going to be the one to get in Tony Junior’s way.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to this prompt: "Tony Stark goes out for Chinese food and ends up with a cat that he tries to smuggle into his own mansion and past the other Avengers. This cat: http://cheezburger.com/6746540032
> 
> Bonus if Tony is allergic to cats. " from Thedenoflana on tumblr.
> 
> Revised slightly from the story that appeared on my tumblr.


End file.
